


high for this

by st_elsewhere



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Riding, Sequel, Sharing Clothes, Size Difference, goddammit lmao caninho, plz comment lol, tags are self explanatory, their sex life is vanilla no more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 02:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8603086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_elsewhere/pseuds/st_elsewhere
Summary: they're supposed to go on a perfect saturday date tomorrow.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldandrust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldandrust/gifts).



> for ma great friend, always ↑↑↑↑↑↑↑ ~~i broke my brain bruh i need to write more.~~  
>  (sequel to [sweets for my sweet.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7554589))  
>   
>   
> p.s. [whoa double update *breakdance*.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7067164/chapters/19722925)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

emre isn’t home when philippe arrives. it’s raining outside, and philippe, drenched from head to toe, had thought that he would take a quick, hot shower then snuggle with his boyfriend, preferably watching the newest episode of the great british bake off (his favorite is still in the competition!) with a cup of coffee or the damnedly sweet milk tea that emre likes. it’s been a week.

anyway.

philippe hangs his coat and toes off his squelching shoes. emre’s flat is always a little bit colder whenever it’s left behind for a couple of hours, and philippe opens his phone to read the text from his boyfriend as he cranks up the heater.

“ _’i’ll be home right on time for dinner. what do you want?’_ hmm, well,” philippe mumbles to himself while typing the reply, “ _’i feel like eating spicy fried rice from the place we went last week and please please get me a dessert’_ , kisses emoji, aaand send!”

in the shower, he entertains the idea to change to emre’s season 16/17 liverpool kit again because the sex had been fantastic the last time. but he decides against it in the last minute, opting for emre’s worn out, black stüssy crewneck instead. he feels like having a sleeve-paws tonight, and he wears one of his boxer briefs that he stores in emre’s built-in closet. feeling fresh and smelling like emre’s ocean salt bodywash, philippe goes to the kitchen. emre has sweet-tooth, but he doesn’t like to stock on what he loves the most; he only has cheese and lots of toblerones and reese’s peanut butter. philippe picks the opened bag of mini reese’s, grabs a glass of water, and settles in front of the telly. he’ll watch some discovery channel before rooting for adam lallana.

 

 

 

“— _philippe_? hey.”

“nngh.” philippe blinks open his eyes, thankful that emre is blocking the fluorescent light. his tongue feels dry and now that he’s awake, he can feel the shivering of his body.

“alright?” emre has taken off his coat or jacket or whatever, leaving him only with his jade-colored tie and crisp white shirt. he’s pushing philippe’s legs gently so he can sit down on the plush, expensive, grey sofa. his hands are _cold_ when they maneuver philippe’s hips so philippe has his legs thrown over his lap. “sorry.”

“’s okay,” philippe watches emre putting aside the mini reese’s to the coffee table. “c’mere you.” he lifts up his sluggish arms and pouts and emre is quick to comply; his kiss is deep and thorough _and_ cold.

ugh.

“ugh, your nose is cold.” philippe whines, bopping emre’s offending organ with his sticky fingers.

emre laughs. “i’m starving. did you already take shower?”

“yes.” philippe clings to emre as the younger man sits back to relax. in philippe’s defense, emre’s lap is really comfortable. “we should eat now,” he says to emre’s damp neck and emre hums his agreement, stroking philippe’s lower spine.

the spicy fried rice is as delicious as philippe can remember. emre eats fast that he’s finished before the great british bake off even begins. he doesn’t laze around after, and he’s done showering by the time the first slot of advertisement is telling them that they need to have the latest food processor from cuisinart.

“thank god it’s friday?” philippe quips as emre pops in a mini reese’s into his smiling mouth. emre’s hair is product-free after his shower, it’s falling over his eyes a little, and now they smell exactly the same. “i missed you,” philippe grins when emre opens his arms to welcome him snuggling close.

“me too, _yavrum_.” emre kisses the top of philippe’s curls. he’s so warm and solid and philippe can’t help but to close his eyes, sighing in contentment. “tomorrow’s a date.”

“oh?” philippe tightens his arms around emre’s torso, squeezing him to emphasize that he’s liking the idea. “where to?”

“why don’t we visit the bakery your favorite bake off contestant own? i’m sure we can find it on the internet.” emre says, popping in another mini reese’s. “maybe you’ll get to see him. then we’ll have lunch. i also want to watch doctor strange.”

“deal!” philippe doesn’t find any fault in emre’s plan. “you’re the best, do you know that?”

emre smirks and he wriggles his eyebrows.

“you look ridiculous!” philippe pinches emre’s chin. fondly, mind you. “what? was it an innuendo? what do you want?”

“what do _i_ want?” emre asks back, his tone is challenging.

“yeah.” philippe nods, practically ready to spread his legs or to be down on his knees anytime soon.

but instead of telling philippe what he wants, emre hauls him up to his lap again. he brings philippe’s left hand to his mouth, then he proceeds to suck two of philippe’s fingers, lapping and licking, coating them with saliva.

their hips are moving at their own accord, their crotches are grinding against each other. philippe grips the sofa’s headrest to have an anchor, and emre’s hands are busy undressing their pants, getting their half-hard cocks out and using one big, big, _big_ hand to stroke them. he’s drooling around philippe’s fingers, eyes closed in determination.

philippe moans when emre tightens his fist right on their pressed cockheads.

emre chooses that moment to swallow, his throat contracting. he pulls philippe’s fingers out of his mouth and without a word redirecting them south to get in between the swell of philippe’s ass. he lets go of their cocks to rearrange philippe’s hips to his liking, and philippe’s whole body jerks at the first graze of his own fingers against the rim of his hole. his cock is flattened on the surface of emre’s _literal_ washboard abs, clad only in thin cotton, black t-shirt.

philippe's cock is already forming a wet spot there.

“ahh..." philippe sits on his knees on either side of emre’s thighs, subconsciously rolling his hips to get his fingers deeper. the angle is kinda awkward for him, but it _feels good_ too, somehow. philippe rotates his wrist, pushing in the third finger and stretching them. ngh, yeah, that's more like it.

they don’t do this very often. scratch that. in fact, last week was the first time for philippe to take emre’s cock with minimal lubrication on his part. he loved it.

and now, it looks like they’re going to do it _again_.

“philippe—“ emre grunts, spitting to his right hand and coating his reddening cock. philippe can see some precome leaking from the cut head, and he takes initiative to add more spit to emre’s cock. he’s ready.

philippe gasps when emre grabs the twin globes of his ass. spreading them, emre rubs the length of his cock in between and squeezes philippe’s ass to mock trap his cock there.

“ _come on._ ” philippe can hear his heartbeats in his ears, the blood is pounding loudly, screaming at him to urge emre to fuck him. he raises his upper body, glaring at emre from above when his _younger_ boyfriend doesn’t do what he wants.

“ride me like never before, yeah?” emre’s smile is so delightful that it doesn’t match with the whole situation, but who is philippe to deny such raw longing? their sex life is bound to change to be more alive after last week; this is just another step to really get into it. it takes two to tango and all that jazz, philippe thinks as he lets emre guide his cock inside of him.

but, it hurts.

it’s a fact that philippe can’t— _doesn’t want_ to change, really—because emre is _huge_.

“alright?” emre bites his bottom lip, slowly inching more into philippe’s relatively dry hole. “too much?”

“i—“ philippe sighs, shaking his head. “let me.”

emre kisses him, swallowing every strained sound that philippe makes. his big, big, _big_ hands are patient on philippe’s hips.

philippe pushes down, rolling his waist and gritting his teeth. his chest feels tighter as emre murmurs praises about him doing so, _so_ well; that philippe is so _good_ for him and that only philippe can take his cock so prettily. philippe whines when emre’s cockhead hits his prostrate even before he’s in to the hilt, and he clenches desperately around emre’s throbbing cock as he pulls back up a little before pushing back in.

“there?” emre whispers, caressing one hand up from philippe’s concaved stomach to his neck. his palm is hot on philippe’s skin and he’s pressing his thumb on the base of philippe’s throat, causing him to choke whenever he swallows—not to mention how it makes his cock stirs.

“more?” emre asks in between philippe’s very articulate whines and moans.

“ _fuck yes!_ ” philippe yells, throws his head back to the ceiling, and lets his body take control.

emre thrusts up and hits philippe’s prostrate again and from then on it’s just muscle memory and the chase for a mindblowing orgasm. philippe meets emre’s pistoning thrusts with the same pace; rushed and uncoordinated. emre is looking up at him, his dark eyes are wet when philippe opens his mouth to suck on emre’s thumb that was previously driving him crazy on the base of his throat. emre’s other hand is gripping philippe’s left ass, using it as a leverage to drive into philippe’s hole. the _slapslapslap_ of their skins is intoxicating, tenfold especially because of the texture of emre’s semen which is rather diluted than sticky—thus his precome, as well—always filling up philippe to the fullest. everything is hot and wet and _perfect_ , and even though philippe feels the burn on his thighs and calves, he doesn’t care.

emre raises one leg to the grey sofa and the position allows him to fuck into philippe deeper.

“ _emre!_ ah, ah, _ah_ —!” philippe is just taking everything now. his knuckles are weakly gripping emre’s taut shoulders and his hard, leaking cock is abandoned. he might come just with emre thrusting right against his bundle of nerve like this.

“i’m gonna come.” emre growls, sitting up straighter and pausing his hips to roll into philippe’s wet heat. he digs his nails to philippe’s ass, thrusting shallowly, lazily, and just when philippe can regain his breathing back, emre comes with a bruising bite to philippe’s clavicle.

philippe moans long and low, feeling the sudden burst of being full that he loves and craves; mewling when emre thrusts up to empty himself to the last drop. it's too much. he touches his own cock in an afterglow haze, and with just a couple of tight strokes, he joins emre to completion.

 

 

 

the telly is playing a tune from a popular pop song when philippe comes to a wake. his head feels lighter but his body is tired. he’s lying on his side, is on the verge of falling face first to the floor if it’s not for emre’s strong arm slung over his torso. they’re both naked from waist down, emre’s cock is soft and huge against his ass. it’s so warm. the birds are already chirping outside. philippe closes his eyes and thinks, their date can wait.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
